Have you read it yet? The heroine, Veronica Hardwicke, is a witch. (Although, she's not very good at being a witch.) Fun reading for Halloween.
Here's the blurb and a couple of excerpts. (The "official" excerpt and a sexy excerpt.)
Lonely young witch, Veronica Hardwicke, has struggled to get on with her life after the death of the elderly husband who’d left her a fortune and a sprawling estate in mystical Sleepy Hollow. When frightening things go bump in the night on a stormy Fourth of July, who better to call than the sexy developer and contractor, Sean Jones, who's been renovating her mansion for months?
Sean may grace the tabloid pages with a different supermodel on his arm every night, but it's Veronica who drives him nuts. Ignoring his instinct to stay away, he answers her summons.
Will the thundering passion of their 1Night Stand tear down the barriers between them?
Veronica paced back and forth in the grand entry foyer of the
mansion, the kitten heels of her Prada mules clacking on the marble floors. Belmont
The rest of the place might not be finished, but she’d insisted on having a few rooms completed, so at least she felt like she was living in a home, rather than a massive, never-ending construction project. Well, her contractor had insisted, even though working around the main entrance and central hallway created more work for him and his crew. But she was forced to admit he was right.
Her cell phone chimed on top of the antique credenza shoved flush against one wall. She leaped for it. Probably Geneviève, to regale her with all the fun she was having in
. Or Sean, to advise her he couldn’t make it after all. She sighed and read the text message on the small screen. Paris
Congratulations, Veronica. 1Night Stand has found your date. Have a good time.
With both anxiety and mounting excitement, she stared at the screen and waited. No other info. Outside in the night, thunder boomed. She jumped then laughed at herself.
Ghosts are one thing, but freaking out at the weather now? Cripes, you really do need this date!
She let her imagination run wild, then texted back for more details:
When? Where? Who?
An insistent pounding at the front door jarred her out of her fantasy. She swung the door open on another explosive crack of thunder.
Sean stood on her doorstep, his soaked T-shirt molding sculpted pecs and abs, his drenched hair flattened over his brow. Rain poured down as he fiddled with his iPhone, a bemused expression on his face. Behind him, jagged arrows of lightning tore the dark sky. He glared at the screen, glanced at her in confusion, then back at the screen.
Veronica’s own phone pinged again. Thunder roared. She read the message in disbelief.You’re looking at him.
He was so doomed.
His dick wouldn’t survive the night.
His head wouldn’t. His heart wouldn’t.
He was fucking starved for her.
Veronica’s soft, smooth lips parted beneath his, and he deepened the kiss like a man crazed and possessed. He’d imagined being with this woman, a distant dream secretly nurtured in the most hidden part of him. The fantasy paled beside the reality of having her in his arms, lodged against his body like seams on a baseball. He dipped his tongue into the velvet recesses of her mouth, withdrew, delved inside again to play with hers.
She clutched him to her, and they both gasped with the stunning impact of the kiss. And the next. And the next. Their breath mingled, and her subtle jasmine scent swirled around his brain, creating a hazy chaos that forced out all other conscious thought. Except that he had to have her.
“You’re fucking me with kisses.”
Her green eyes were dark with desire. The F-word falling from the sweet, kiss-swollen lips of the cool, serene Veronica Hardwicke was more than he could handle. His fantasy image of her shattered. The real woman in his arms—she was everything. He rested his hands on her shoulders, bending to graze his forehead against hers. He left light, soothing kisses on her eyelids, on her cheeks, gentle after the raw, carnal plunder of her mouth.
“Yes.” He wouldn’t apologize. “Fucking you.” The image of their bodies twined together and writhing on a bed brought him too close to orgasm. Christ. He was on the verge of coming like a kid jerking off in his fist. He screwed his eyes shut, putting the powerful picture show playing in his head on pause, and then dragged in a deep breath, struggling to regain his control. It took him another moment to manage words. “Do you mind?”
“No.” She tilted her chin up. “Do it again.”